Pigs Don't Cry
It burns.
My eyes are burning.
It hurts,
When you want to cry.
It bleeds.
My body is heavy and warm.
Crying is nice.
It's safe and
Warm.
You feel it flow and
Trickle down.
My stomach aches
It breaks and
Turns and twists
And churns.
But when you cry it
Makes no sound.
Doesn't whine or squeal
Like a pig
Aching for food and love
And hope.
We trickle and
Flow.
Like a river it
Goes.
Down my face
Hands
Sheets
We shake
And quake
My hands can't
Stay still.
My legs won't
Be calm.
It always is
Monthly,
Weekly,
Daily,
Enough.
It's never enough.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: